The Deed (15 page)

Emma snorted inelegantly at that and Maude stilled the brush again.

Well, Maude sighed. His lordship was a bit rushed on yer wedding night. There was some
need for speed.

He most like didnt have the opportunity to prepare ye for it.

Prepare me? Well, he did warn me and apologize afore he did it. Turning, she caught Maude
rolling her eyes in dismay.

That is not preparing, my lady.

Tisnt?

Nay, she said heavily. My lady, did no one teach ye about the bedding before ye wed Lord
Fulk?

Ayenay. Emma laughed as she recalled her naive thoughts. My father told me my husband
would share my bed.

And that is all?

Emma nodded.

Oh, my lady! Maude looked dismayed. Ye should have told me. Mayhap I could have prepared
ye for what was to come.

Tis all right, Emma assured her with a wry smile. I am prepared now. Tis why I took the
hops and willow. All will be well tonight. I will forbear. Tis the truth I hardly think I
will even notice the discomfort. I am fair sotted.

Nay! My lady, Maude started urgently, only to snap her mouth shut when the chamber door
opened and Lord Amaury stepped in. Spying them by the fire, he frowned over the fact that
the maid was still there. He wished to speak to his wife alone.

Leave us, he said.

Maude hesitated briefly, then rose and reluctantly left the room.

Amaury watched her go, then turned to survey his wife. She looked fair lovely before the
fire. Her hair shone as it tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. It was more than
obvious to him that she wore nothing beneath the black linen wrapped around her either. It
was damp and clung to her body.

Amaury felt his throat closing up as his gaze wandered over that body. He very distinctly
recalled it lying beneath his. He also distinctly recalled the agony he had suffered
afterward when he had been denied release. He suspected that denial was the reason he was
so easily aroused by his little wife now. It

seemed to him he had spent almost every minute since their marriage, at least the
conscious moments, in a state of arousal. Damned if he hadnt. And it appeared that he
would not be gaining satisfaction anytime soon. Not if his wife was ailing.

You are ill, he said. Emmas eyebrows rose at that accusation; then she shook her head.
Aye. You are, and I wish to know what is ailing you, wife. Nothing, husband. You will tell
me what is ailing you. Tis your duty as my wife.

Emma frowned at him. She had no idea why he would think her ill, unless he had also
somehow learned of her taking the white willow bark and hops. If that were the case, she
definitely did not wish to explain her reasons to him. It would be fair embarrassing to
discuss. Deciding that distraction was needed, she managed to gain her feet without losing
her balance, then dropped the linen to the floor. Do I look ill, husband?

Amaury stood rooted to the spot. He could not believe she had done that. He had spent the
time ever since his wedding night battling with himself over pestering her for his
privileges, his body nearly ordering him to do so and his mind arguing that he mustnt rush
her. He had suffered an agony of guilt over the pain he had unfortunately caused on his
wedding night. Now, here she was, as much as offering herself to him. At least he hoped to
God she was offering herself. He thought hed die if he was misunderstanding her and she
suddenly crawled into bed and went to sleep. Terrified that that was exactly what she
intended to do, he stood where he was, counting out the passing seconds in his head. He
would give her to the count of twentynay, tento get into the bed, else...

Dropping the linen had been one of the hardest things Emma had ever done in her life.
Still and all, as a distraction it was mightily effective. Her husband looked as though he
had not only lost his train of thought, he had lost thought altogether. He simply stood
there gaping at her for the longest time, then suddenly strode across the room, swept her
up into his arms and carried her to the bed. Dropping her there, he immediately began
tearing at his clothes.

Emma watched him with something akin to amazement. It was not quite the reaction she had
expected. She had hoped it might give him ideas, but had fully expected she would have to
at least ask him before he would relent and agree to the joining. To see him ripping so
impatiently at his clothes instead made her wonder if perhaps the joining were not much
more enjoyable for the man, for truly it did seem he was eager. He already had his tunic
off and was now hopping about the room on one foot, tugging at the boot on his other. The
boot came off at last and he tossed it over his shoulder, then turned his attention to the
second boot. A moment later that went flying over his shoulder as well. He then wasted
little time in untying the stays of his hose and shoving them down.

Emmas eyes widened when his oddity was revealed. It seemed even bigger than it had been
the last time she had seen it. She was suddenly extremely grateful for the foresight that
had led her to dose herself.

Realizing that he had suddenly gone still, she raised her eyes to his face. The hunger was
still there, but now his face showed an expression resembling pain. Frowning, Emma licked
her lips. Husband?

Amaury groaned and closed his eyes at the sight of her little tongue darting swiftly
across her lips. Hell, didnt she realize he was trying to contain himself? Did she not
know the restraint needed to keep from pouncing on her? For that had been his full
intention as he had torn at his clothes. Then, of course, he had managed to overcome his
baser instincts long enough to remember that she was still new to this business of marital
bliss. And that he had sworn to himself that the next time he forced himself on her, he
would take the time to make it as pleasurable for her as he could. Or at least as painless
as possible, for it was a fact ladies did not enjoy the act.

Husband?

Sighing, Amaury opened his eyes and forced a smile, then eased himself onto the bed beside
her.

Emma gave him a slightly tense smile in return, and rolled onto her back. It was what he
had ordered her to do the night of their wedding. She fully expected that he would move
over top of her again and commence the joining. Instead, he merely raised his eyebrows
slightly, then allowed his gaze to run down over her body. When his eyes reached the apex
of her legs, Emma suddenly remembered his other instruction of that night and opened her
legs.

Amaurys gaze shot immediately back to her face at the action, trying to escape the
thoughts it brought immediately to his mind. Her face seemed the safest place for him to
look while he regained his self-control... until he saw her tongue dart out again.

Groaning, he dropped his face into the pillow. Husband? I can do this, he muttered through
gritted teeth into the pillow. Do what, husband? Tis not your place to ask questions,
wife. Just lie there quiet.

Aye, husband, Emma answered worriedly, her insecurities running riot. He hated her.
Couldnt stand to look at her. Couldnt bear the thought of joining with her. Even now he
was trying to convince himself he could manage the deed. Hell, she wished she were
beautiful. Just for this night. It was shaming to be found so ugly that your husband
couldnt bear the idea of getting you with child.

Amaury pressed his face deeper into the pillow and held his breath, counting to ten
repeatedly as he imagined the most unpleasant things he could think of in an to attempt to
control his desires.

The pock-faced old hag who made the ale.

Bathing.

His wifes tree tea. Nay. That was no good. It made him remember his wife, who at the
moment was lying naked beside him.

The painful headaches hed suffered after his head injury. Nay. That was no good either. It
simply brought to mind images of her bent over him, feeling his forehead for fever.

Talking to his wife. Damn! Could she not stay out of his mind?

Emma stared helplessly at her husbands back, suffering an agony of uncertainty. Then her
temper began to rouse as she watched him burrow his face deeper and deeper into the
pillow. Was he trying to smother himself? Was mating with her truly a fate worse than
death? Good God, this was damned insulting!

Husband! she snapped summarily. I have not asked you to kill yourself, simply to close
your eyes, pretend I am more attractive to you, and do that... thing... you did the other
time. We need an heir, and it seems you failed last time to produce one.

Amaury stilled at that, then turned his head to peer at his wife blankly. What said you?
Emma sighed impatiently. The joining, my lord. Nay. What mean you when you say that I
failed to produce an heir the last time?

Realizing his manly pride had been wounded, she sighed and tried to soothe him. Tis sure
I am, that twasnt your fault, my lord. Mayhap twas the pressure of the consummating that
was at fault for our lack of success at getting me with child. Mayhap it weakened your
fertility, but

Twas my kindness that prevented getting you with child! Amaury snapped. When Emma merely
blinked at him, he explained, I did not spill my seed.

Her confused expression did not clear much at that, and Amaury sighed impatiently. A man
must spill his seed, planting the babe in the womans belly. But there was no time on our
wedding night. We were interrupted and after the pain I caused you, I thought not to force
myself on you further that night.

Seed? Emma murmured, glancing down at her stomach.

Aye.

She raised suspicious eyes to him again. Where is this seed you are supposed to plant? she
asked skeptically.

Amaury opened his mouth, closed it again, then flushed quite red, almost purple, in fact.
For a moment Emma feared he might have a fit. Then he leapt off the bed and strode to the
door, tugging it wide open. Framed naked in the doorway, he bellowed for his squire.

Emma quickly covered herself with the bedclothes before the boy raced up from the Great
Hall at the summons.

Fetch me some ale! Amaury snapped when his squire slid to a halt at a safe distance from
him. Nodding, Alden turned eagerly to flee, then froze and whirled when Amaury called out
to him again. Make it wine! Lots of it!

Closing the door on the boys fleeing back, he turned to survey his wife. She was an
alabaster statue amidst the ebony linen of the bed. Whirling back to the door, he opened
it once more. Twas safer to stand in the door watching for Aldens return than to face his
wife and risk more questions. Damned if he was going to explain the facts of life to her.
Damned if he would.

Emma stared at her husbands back in an agony of despair. Things had seemed so hopeful just
moments

ago when he had disrobed so quickly, but she was beginning to think his speed had had more
to do with a determination to get the deed done quickly than with any eagerness on his
part. Now it seemed he needed spirits to help him find the courage to perform the duty.

Her thoughts were distracted by Amaurys grunt as Alden returned. It seemed the boy had
accomplished his task at lightning speed. He must have run both ways.

What of my tankard?

Y-yer tankard, my lord? Alden stuttered under his Lords frown.

Never mind, Amaury snapped impatiently, and slammed the door in his squires face. Glancing
at his wife, he muttered something under his breath, then tipped the bottle to his lips
and emptied nearly half its contents in one long gulp.

Prey, do not overindulge, my lord! Emma exclaimed, slipping off the bed and hurrying to
his side in an attempt to snatch the bottle away. I have heard overindulgence can affect a
mans potency.

There is nothing wrong with my potency, wife! Amaury snapped, pulling the bottle away from
his lips and holding it out of her reach, then freezing.

Emma had left the bedclothes on the bed when she fled it. She now stood before him in all
her glory. Her body stretched catlike as she hopped before him, grabbing for the bottle he
held above their heads. For a moment, his eyes simply would not turn from the sight of her
bouncing breasts; then he cursed and forced himself to look away. Just when he was
reminding himself that he was angry with the little wench and her assumption that it was
some lack in him to blame for her not being with child, she lost her balance and stumbled
against him. Perhaps it was only the wine he had just consumed, but her breasts seemed as
hot as the embers of a fire as they grazed across his chest.

Sucking in his breath, Amaury forgot the bottle in his hand, and unknowingly allowed it to
lower to within her reach, but his little wife had quite suddenly lost interest in it as
well. Instead, her gaze had now turned to her own chest, a look of astonishment on her
face as she peered at her raised nipples and the way they poked out pertly toward him like
buds reaching for the sun.

Swallowing, Emma raised her hands uncertainly toward herself, then paused and glanced at
her husband in confusion. Her nipples were as hard as pebbles, their color a dark rose.
Twas a situation that usually only occurred when she was cold or damp, or both, but the
sensation that had raced through her just now as she had brushed against her husbands
chest had not been coldness, but heat. A warm tingly sensation had flashed through her,
seeming to shoot from each of her breasts to somewhere in her lower stomach.

She was still puzzling over this condition, when her husband suddenly reached out to brush
the thumb of his free hand across one of the affected buds. Emma would not have believed
it possible for her nipples to distend any further, but they did... And the shivery
feeling returned as well, shuddering through her like a small bolt of lightning that
seemed to leave a trail of molten heat. She couldnt repress the small moan of mingled
pleasure and fear that slipped from her lips.

Amaury was somewhat startled by that moan, for it had seemed to be one of pleasure. Yet
wives were not supposed to enjoy the marriage act. Still, the sound itself started a
smoldering in him that reached all the way down to his toes, and he decided quite suddenly
that he wanted more of those sounds. Many more. Dropping the bottle carelessly to the
floor, he caught his wife under her arms and lifted her before